


A Touch of Optimism

by Alona



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Family Fluff, Gen, a bit of body horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-04 01:20:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12158688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alona/pseuds/Alona
Summary: Berit is the first to see one of the things.





	A Touch of Optimism

**Author's Note:**

  * For [straightforwardly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/straightforwardly/gifts).



Berit is the first to see one of the things. 

They're heading back from a supply run to some outlying buildings – Aksel is loaded down with kerosene lanterns in varying states of dilapidation, plus a whole bunch of other junk, all of which his grandmother had to be cajoled into letting him carry. It's three days since the power went out for good; even Ingrid has stopped professing to enjoy doing things by scented candlelight (the selection of scents isn't helping), and it's time to get serious. The weather hasn't let up, either: uniformly dark, when it isn't outright wet. 

Berit takes his elbow. "Don't start getting panicky now, but something is following us."

Aksel starts getting panicky right away, and that's before he turns and sees the thing. 

It's… a hideously overgrown spider? A walking side table? No – it stumbles and squats its way out of the deep shadows in the undergrowth, some of its way too many eyes glowing like an animal's in the dark. It's a human shape, bent double backwards, with a face where its stomach should be. It's walking on its hands: each wrist splits into two hands with at least ten fingers each. It's definitely following them, it can't possibly mean anything good, and Aksel's got his arms full of stuff that'll overbalance if he moves too fast. 

His grandmother is edging him forward step by step, keeping her eyes trained on the thing. "Darn bifocals," she mutters, pushing up her glasses with her shoulder. "Pass me the good one, kitten." 

Aksel maneuvers so the one lantern that didn't look, to his eyes, completely, hopelessly rusted, is in easy reach. Berit gets an oilskin pouch out of her knapsack – she brought the pouch with her, and it's full of unexpectedly useful odds and ends – and fiddles with something in it. Aksel can't watch her without watching the thing, too, and he can't stand watching it creep closer and closer to them. Instead he looks up and beyond, where the slabs of water and sky are being eaten up by the dark, and concentrates on not dropping anything. 

Then the lantern is lit – and Aksel definitely didn't hear his sweet, fluffy grandma saying some of the words he thought he heard her saying just now – and Berit takes a lunging step towards the thing, the arm holding the lantern thrust out. There's a rustle in the undergrowth, a pathetic moan, and then the glow of the thing's eyes is gone. 

They're alone. Safe. Probably. 

"Is it gone?" Aksel whispers. "What are we going to do now?" That wasn't a whisper: more of a wail. "I'm sorry, I was totally useless just now. I'll do better next time!" 

Berit shakes her head a little. "We should have a plan, before the next time. To start with, no one goes out alone anymore. And we carry weapons. Do you know anyone who's good with a gun?"

"Ingrid was in a gun club thing," Aksel volunteers. "She quit because… something, but I think she was pretty good." 

"That's a start," Berit says. She's trying not to laugh at something, though Aksel has no idea what can possibly be funny right now. 

He doesn't stop jumping at imaginary noises and scrutinizing the growing patches of darkness until they reach the café – the Hall, as everyone's taken to calling it. The demon cat is there to meet them at the door, making bitten-off yowling sounds, all its fur standing up as it darts around Berit's feet, trying to trip her up, no doubt. She kneels slowly to stroke its back. 

After the cat, Gøran is the first to greet them. "Find anything useful, or just junk?" He's still carrying around that book, with instructions for building a fire pit. He hasn't actually gone through with making one in the middle of the Hall like he keeps threatening to, which is a relief. 

"Useful junk," Berit answers. "Also, we have company." 

It's even more of a relief to hear her explain the thing, calmly, as if it was a normal event that might have happened to anyone if they had stayed out a little too late in the evening. Aksel knows if someone had asked him, he'd have said nothing had happened. Already he's half-convinced it was nothing – how can you tell people about something you don't really believe yourself? Berit sounds completely convincing, though. She's drawing a curious crowd: turns out the collapse of society as we know it (thanks for that formulation, Gøran) can be kind of boring. 

"So that's why you look like a slug ate your brain," Sigrun says, coming over to (pretend to) help him with the lanterns and stuff while she (actually) makes fun of him (though the lanterns do get put away). "There's monsters now?"

"One monster," Aksel says, with an attempt at confidence. "Just one." 

"You only saw one. I bet there's hundreds. I bet they're everywhere." Her ghoulish delight is maybe not entirely genuine. "You know, your grandma's pretty useful, for an old person. I didn't expect that." 

"She's not just an old person," Aksel says, frowning. 

"Whatever. I thought she'd be total dead weight, from what you said."

And it's time to start ignoring Sigrun. 

Berit's news is spreading. Aksel can hear the ones who are panicking about the end of the world and their own total unfitness to deal with it, the ones who are doubting whether they can trust anything an old lady saw, the ones who are explaining how years of video games have prepared them for this moment.

He watches as Berit is escorted to a seat in the corner. The demon cat hops up on the table in front of her and starts stalking back and forth, tail wafting like a flame. Berit waves Aksel over to her. The moment he sits down, the cat noses his elbow; maybe it's trying to make friends? 

"You don't fool me, cat," he tells it indulgently. To Berit he says, "It really is the end of the world, isn't it?" 

"We'll see. Are you worried?" 

He considers, but only for a moment. "Not really? I mean, I'm terrified of that thing we saw, and we're all going to die, probably. But my friends tell me how we're all going to die about once a week? I know you're safe right now, and we have everything we need here." He laughs a little. "It's not all that bad. Even with monsters."

His grandmother smiles. "So you do make sense sometimes, puppy." 

She's sparing enough with her approval that it makes Aksel hum happily. "I guess!" 

The cat expresses its opinion by plopping into Aksel's lap and settling down with way more application of tiny needle-sharp claws than can possibly be necessary. Aksel rolls his eyes and winces, but he's smiling. Deep, deep down, the cat wants to keep his grandmother safe, just like he does. Evil as it is, maybe it can be family, too.


End file.
